


Not Given Lightly

by prouvairablehulk



Series: FlashWave Week 2K17 [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Myth AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:49:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9641417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairablehulk/pseuds/prouvairablehulk
Summary: Mick Rory grew up with the tale of Maui catching the sun. He didn’t realize he was going to have to do the same.FlashWave Week Day Five





	

Contrary to popular belief, Mick Rory knows exactly what it takes to be a hero. He’s been told it for years, in whispered tales with the lights out, narratives passed down by his mother in the half dark where his father couldn’t take issue. Heroes make journeys to the underworld, they steal fire for their people, they catch the mightiest of fish and turn it into land. Heroes are tricksters and scoundrels who benefit those who need it. Heroes are tales whispered in the dark to try and make a difference in the life of a boy who needed something to live up to. 

Mick isn’t a hero. He never budgeted for becoming one. But here they are, all of them together – the Legends, the Flash’s backup crew, the gang from Star City, sitting around in the STAR Labs’ conference room, panicking. 

“He’s going to run himself into oblivion.” says Iris, her face taught. “He’s losing it, blaming himself for everything that went wrong.”

“It’s not like we have a protocol for this.” says Oliver, frown permanently etched on his face. “

“Well, where would we look for one? He’s moving too fast for us.” Cisco cries. His voice would be a shout, if not for the pain in it. 

Mick considers the kid in red. He thinks about everything good the kid has done, all the things he’s made, the fact he’s lit up Central with his belief in justice, made everything brighter. 

His mind cuts back to a night in the twilight, hos mother’s voice, low and warm, syllables from their home that came straight from her diaphragm and carried strength in their sound. The kid’s bright – he’s fast, too fast – 

“I know what to do.” says Mick. Everyone turns to look at him. “My people have done this before, we have a tale –“

“Your people?” asks Nate, raising an incredulous eyebrow. “What, in Gen Pop?”

Mick rolls his eyes. Pakeha. Honestly. 

“No, my people. Look, the kid, he might as well be Tamanuitera.” 

“Tama-who, now?” asks Jax. He, at least, looks intrigued. Come to think of it, so does the new speed kid. 

“Tamanuitera.” says Mick. “The sun.” 

“Walk me through your reasoning.” says new speed kid. Wally, that’s his name. 

“Bright. Too fast for the rest of us.” says Mick. Cisco pulls a contemplative face and then nods in acquiescence. “My people have a hero who slowed the sun.” 

“How?”

“With a magic jawbone and rope and a prayer.” says Mick, because that’s the truth of it. Jax, Cisco and Wally come closer as the other members of the teams roll their eyes and move on. 

“You think you can pull this off?” asks Wally. “Got that jawbone hidden away somewhere?” 

Mick laughs, deep and throaty. 

“That’s not what Scarlet is missing.” he says. “The jawbone is for force. Ropes are for binding and anchoring.”

“And Barry doesn’t have an anchor?” suggests Cisco.

“If he did, he wouldn’t be running into oblivion because of guilt.” says Mick. “Look, Lenny got like this whenever Lisa and he had a fight. Blame himself for every bad thing that ever happened to her, take every unthinking barb and bury it deeper. He’d stop eating, stop sleeping, just throw himself into planning.” 

Jax nods, thoughtful. He’d seen the aftermath of Mick disappearing and reappearing. Mick thought he’d get it. 

“Lenny wasn’t like Barry. But the principle is the same. He needs an anchor to keep him here. A family.” 

They nod, his three accomplices. 

“Do you have a kitchen here?” asks Mick. 

***

He tells them the story while the four of them start on Mick’s culinary plan. He’s thinking like he used to when he fed Len in moments like this, cheese scones and individual pastry-bound Shepherds Pies and kumara and slow-roasted lamb. He might even make a pavlova to finish, get Gideon to create some hokey pokey ice cream. Jax and Wally oooh and aaah in all the right places, and even cheer at the end, and Cisco is smiling the whole time, so Mick counts it as a small victory. There’s a warm homeliness to the whole affair that gives Mick hope for what they are planning to achieve. He puts on a Muttonbirds album and sings along an laughs at the flabbergasted looks on their faces when they hear him for the first time. 

“You’ve been holding out on us!” gasps Cisco, but by the second time through the album, Cisco’s belting harmonies on Wellington with him, tragic key change and all. 

And all the while, through every ingredient and addition, Mick is reciting the same karakia that Maui did, pressing the hope and the intention into what he was creating. 

"Taura nui, taura roa, taura kaha, taura toa, taura here i a Tamanuiterā, whakamaua kia mau kia ita!"

***

Barry slows down to eat, when he sees the feast they made for him, smiles warm for a moment, a fragment of sun. He likes cheese scones, eats every scrap of the pavlova, and looks momentarily contented, before he’s running off, again. It’s a step in the right direction, and Mick’s proud of himself. He couldn’t save Lenny from himself, sure. But maybe he can save the kid instead. 

After dinner, while Jax and Wally have a suds fight and Mick and Cisco do the actual dish-washing, Joe West makes his way into the kitchen. 

“I’ll admit,” he says, “you may be onto something.”

Softly, in the background, Frank Turner is singing about getting tattoos when he gets bored because time is passing to fast for him to follow. It feels apt. Mick nudges one of the very small number of remaining pies in the Detective’s direction. There is a long and meaningful pause. 

Then Joe takes one. 

"Taura nui, taura roa, taura kaha, taura toa, taura here i a Tamanuiterā, whakamaua kia mau kia ita!"

***

Iris comes to Mick’s next plan, a swing past the apartment the kid is living in. As Mick expected, it’s a tip. They wade in to clean up the same way they did the cooking – meaning Mick’s brought speakers and enough Miles Davis to fill the Blue Note for a year. With every sweep of a duster, every plumped pillow and polished glass, Mick is speaking, filling the home with hope and family. Iris and Cisco are dancing in the middle of the room and Joe is singing along, while Jax and Wally whisper back and forth in a way they think is secretive but really isn’t. There’s a warmth building, and Mick knows the sun will rise, soon. 

"Taura nui, taura roa, taura kaha, taura toa, taura here i a Tamanuiterā, whakamaua kia mau kia ita!" he whispers, into the folds of the clean tea towels. 

***

There’s a cup of Jitters coffee on Barry’s desk, just the roast he likes. There’s more of the cheese scones on his kitchen counter. Someone is looking out for him. Barry doesn’t know what to think, can’t decide if its pity or mockery. 

So of course, that’s when he runs into Mick, pulling a roast out of Barry’s oven. In Barry’s house. Which he has broken into. In order to cook. 

“What the fuck?” Barry demands, flashing over at speed and slamming Mick back into the wall. It seems he’s destined to do this with all his temperature themed nemeses. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m trying to make sure you don’t go flying into nothing.” Mick snarls back. 

“I deserve it!” Barry snaps.

“No, you don’t.” says Mick. 

“Look at the people who’ve died because of me!”

“Look at the people who lived.” 

There’s a beat. The roast smells really good. Barry steps back. 

“Why do you care?”

Mick tells him the story, tells him about Maui slowing the sun so that the people who needed its light had the time to appreciate it, to do what needed to be done. Barry’s eyes are welling up as he finishes telling it. 

“I’m the sun?” he whispers. 

Mick doesn’t answer. Mick kisses him. 

***

Barry is something beautiful, underneath Mick, spread out on sheets that Mick has washed and folded and cast something through. He shakes and whimpers and moans, desperate and perfect and Mick’s. And Mick – between kisses and bites and marks, between nips and sucks and licks and more kisses – Mick presses his words into Barry’s skin, holding him, binding him in place in the world that Mick has built for him, somewhere safe and just dark enough that Barry will shine all the brighter. 

"Taura nui, taura roa, taura kaha, taura toa, taura here i a Tamanuiterā, whakamaua kia mau kia ita!"

Barry shakes and shakes and vibrates and comes apart, and Mick follows right on behind him. 

***

They go to brunch the next morning with Wally and Jax and Cisco, who are all laughing and joyous and on just the right side of teasing. Barry smiles, genuine and real, and Cisco winks at Mick as soon as Barry’s not looking. 

They stay all morning, and Barry never runs, not once.   
 


End file.
